


Just To Hold The Hands I Love

by mrs_d



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (just a bit), Alternate Universe - No Powers, Christmas Shopping, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Seasonal, Snow, alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:56:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22025194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_d/pseuds/mrs_d
Summary: “Isn’t it funny how everything goes quiet when it snows?” Steve asked. His tone was almost reverent.“I was just thinking that,” said Sam, holding Steve’s hand a little tighter.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32
Collections: SamSteve Small Gifts





	Just To Hold The Hands I Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [glim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/gifts).



> For glim, who requested “A walk in the snow, then hot drinks together," especially with pre-serum Steve. I hope I did it justice!
> 
> Title from Song for a Winter's Night, as performed by [Sarah McLachlan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UV4F2yfEt9o) and [Gordon Lightfoot](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JRIlTvYp0ok). ("I would be happy just to hold the hands I love / upon this winter's night with you.")

“Okay. Just one more thing, and then we’re done,” said Steve, shoving his glasses up with one finger.

 _Thank God,_ Sam didn’t say out loud, even though he really wanted to. They’d been shopping for hours now, with only a food court dinner to keep them going. Sam’s feet were killing him.

“What’s the last item?” he asked Steve, gesturing at the list in his hand. “Who’s it for?”

Steve turned abruptly away, shielding the list with his body, so Sam couldn’t see. “Never you mind, nosy parker,” he scolded.

Sam laughed. “What are you, twelve? Let me see.”

But Steve already had the list folded into his jeans pocket, and when Sam reached for it, he head up a hand to block him. “Come any closer, and I’ll eat it,” he threatened.

Sam laughed again, but he also backed off – he knew his stubborn boyfriend well enough to know that there was a chance he would actually do it, just to prove a point.

“All right,” he said. “But can you at least tell me where we’re going?”

“Liquor store,” Steve replied. He turned on the spot, clearly saw what he was looking for, and pointed. “That way.”

It turned out that the last item on Steve’s list was a specific bottle of wine for Sam’s parents. They’d mentioned having it on their anniversary trip to France last year, and clearly Steve had a much better memory than Sam did. Sam knew his mom would love it; it was a sweet gesture, and very thoughtful — serious potential for brownie points.

Sam wandered off while Steve joined the long line to pay — ID in hand, of course, because no cashier believed at first glance that the short, skinny guy in front of them was almost thirty years old. While he waited, Sam browsed the liqueurs and got an idea. He took a bottle off the shelf, then rejoined the line, a few down from Steve.

Steve saw him and gestured that Sam could cut in with him, but the surly woman behind Steve had a look that suggested otherwise. Sam decided not to chance it. The season of giving only went so far in the retail world.

Steve waited for Sam out in the mall — on a _bench,_ Sam was so jealous — and he cast a curious look at the Sam’s bag as he approached.

“What’d you get?” he asked.

“None of your beeswax,” Sam replied. “Nosy parker,” he added pointedly.

Steve rolled his eyes. “All right, I earned that. You ready to go home?”

“And then some,” Sam agreed.

They set out across the mall, but Sam’s hopes of a quick trip home were dashed when they got to the entrance to the subway and saw a crowd of would-be commuters backed all the way up to the doors. Staff in vests directed people and updated them on the situation, but Sam could tell it didn’t look good.

“Signal issues,” Sam overheard one of them saying. “Trains are holding in both directions for now, gonna be at least fifteen minutes.”

“Damn,” Sam said under his breath.

Steve shrugged. “What you can do, I guess.”

“Wait it out?” Sam suggested. “Or we could take a cab.”

Steve glanced at their shopping bags and grimaced. He didn’t have to say anything to know that Steve was worried about spending more money after their day of shopping.

“Never mind,” Sam amended. “Why don’t we walk?”

“I thought you said your feet were hurting,” Steve pointed out.

“Yeah, but...” Sam eyed the bags and thought about it. A cab really would make life easier, but their already-stressed bank account wouldn’t like that plan.

Someone jostled Steve from behind. The crowd was closing in around them, trying to get to the subway. “Let’s stop holding up traffic here and think for a minute,” Steve said.

That was Steve — he always had a plan. “Yeah,” Sam nodded. “Lead on.”

Steve took his hand and set out, cutting a path through the crowd. The further away from the transit entrance they got, the fewer people they saw, and then — miracle of miracles — Sam spotted an empty bench.

He sank onto it with a grateful groan. Steve chuckled and followed suit, arranging their purchases around them until it seemed like they were moored on an island of shopping bags.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the sounds of the mall — poppy, upbeat Christmas music playing overhead, teenagers gossiping and adults bitching about the subway as they walked by. Sam watched the plastic snowflakes that hung from the ceiling spin slightly with the air currents, refracting the light in strange, captivating ways.

“Well?” Steve asked eventually. “What are you thinking?”

Sam turned his head. Steve was kind of refracting light, too — the screws in his glasses frames caught the sparkling display lights of the jewelry shop behind them, and the small silver stud in his right ear glinted like a drop of water.

“Let’s walk,” Sam decided. “It’s only forty minutes. By the time the subway gets cleared out, we’ll be home at the same time. And it’s cheaper than a cab.”

“True enough.” Steve blew out a breath and got to his feet. “Let’s go, then.”

Outside the mall, the night was noisy — people filing out of the subway station and milling about, talking on their phones about the situation — so Sam headed for a side street. It was a bit less direct in terms of their route, but much nicer. Once free of the hustle and bustle, they were able to take their time, hold hands, and look at the neighborhood’s Christmas lights.

After a few minutes, it seemed to grow quieter. So quiet that Sam hesitated to speak. A second later, he understood why: the first flakes of snow appeared in front of them, white and fluttering against the inky black of the night sky. Soon, there were more, and more, and then it was snowing heavily. Over the sound of their footsteps, Sam swore he could hear the shush of each flake landing on his coat.

“Isn’t it funny how everything goes quiet when it snows?” Steve asked. His tone was almost reverent.

“I was just thinking that,” said Sam, holding Steve’s hand a little tighter.

Steve smiled at him under the streetlight and didn’t speak. He didn’t have to.

By the time they got home, half an inch or more had accumulated, clinging to the frozen grass and white-cold cement. Sam let Steve climb the steps of their porch first, since he had his key out. Sam followed, and caught him when he inevitably tripped on the way through the door, unable to see because his glasses were opaque with fog.

“Thanks,” said Steve. He took off his glasses and set the bags on the floor, out of the reach of the snow puddles their shoes were making. He surveyed the pile and sighed. “Let’s unpack these tomorrow.”

“That’s a great plan,” Sam agreed, fighting his way through a yawn.

Once they were free of their outerwear, Sam locked the door behind them while Steve wiped his glasses with his shirt.

“You want to watch a movie or something?” Steve asked.

“Whatever you want,” Sam replied. He dug until he found the paper bag from the liquor store, and took it to the kitchen.

“I’m freezing,” Steve called after him. Sam hummed in agreement, and found them two glasses.

“Get the blanket,” he suggested, re-entering the room. He set the glasses and the bottle of chocolate liqueur on the coffee table, then plugged in the colorful lights they had strung in the front window.

Steve smiled over at him and hit the light switch, so the room was only lit with the Christmas lights. Then he settled into one corner of the couch and tugged the fleecy blanket down from the back.

“You want hot chocolate to put this in?” Sam asked, opening the bottle. Steve famously didn’t like alcohol that tasted like alcohol. “Might be a bit strong for you.”

“I can handle it,” Steve replied, and Sam huffed out a laugh.

“Okay,” he said, “but if I get comfy and you change your mind...”

“I know, I know, I’ll get it,” Steve said. He lifted the blanket to make room for Sam. “Now come on, get in here and warm me up.”

Sam smiled as he poured a bit of alcohol in each glass, then passed one to Steve and sat down beside him. Steve’s bony thigh was like ice next to his, so he snuggled up close and tucked the blanket around them.

“Cheers,” said Steve, lifting the glass. “To finishing our shopping.”

Sam hadn’t finished his shopping — Steve was hard to buy for, and he usually left it to the last minute — but Steve didn’t need to know that right now. “To finishing our shopping,” he repeated.

They each took a sip, and Steve made a strange sound in his throat.

“You all right?” Sam asked with a knowing glance.

“Uh huh,” said Steve. He looked at the glass, then at the blanket covering them both. “I’m just... I’m gonna make some hot chocolate.”

Sam laughed and lifted the blanket so he could get out. “Told you.”

“Hush,” Steve chided him.

Sam chuckled some more as Steve left the room, then got up and followed. “I’ll take some too, if you’re making it,” he said, stepping into the kitchen.

“Oh, sure, now you want one,” Steve grumbled, but he didn’t protest when Sam came up behind him while he filled the kettle.

He broke away to put it on the stove, but Sam didn’t let him get far. He leaned against the counter and pulled Steve back into his arms.

“I feel warmer already,” Steve said, and Sam, as he kissed him, couldn’t help but agree.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to glim for the lovely prompt, and to all the participants of our first-ever SamSteve Small Gift Exchange!
> 
> New contact info if you want to get in touch:
> 
> Tumblr: [mrsd-writes](http://mrsd-writes.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Twitter: [@mrsd_writes](https://www.twitter.com/mrsd_writes)
> 
> Dreamwidth: [mrs_d](https://mrs-d.dreamwidth.org/)


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